


take my jacket

by pinkberrygeek



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: BokuAka Week, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post-Canon, Sharing Clothes, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:35:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25690681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkberrygeek/pseuds/pinkberrygeek
Summary: The story where everyone in Fukurodani knows Bokuto and Akaashi are madly in love with each other, except Bokuto and Akaashi themselves.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 19
Kudos: 237
Collections: BokuAka Week, Bokuaka Week 2020





	take my jacket

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for BokuAkaWeek 2020.  
> Day 4: clothes sharing

Bokuto Koutarou _loved_ to share. 

He believed wholeheartedly that sharing was caring, and things like good food and a helping hand, were things that could make people smile when offered. Bokuto liked to make his family and friends smile. After all, he was the oldest child in his family, with three younger sisters and had been conditioned from childhood to be generous with his things. 

So when he saw one of his favourite people, Akaashi Keiji, shivering from the cold on a chilly September evening, Bokuto didn’t think twice before shedding his parka and placing it on his companion’s shoulders. 

“Bokuto-san?”

“Keep it on, Akaashi! Can’t have you catching a cold. There’s a big deadline coming up, right?” 

“But…”

At Akaashi’s troubled expression, Bokuto laughed. 

“Hey hey! Look at these gigantic guns,” he flexed his biceps for emphasis, feeling a sense of self-satisfaction when his gains were clearly visible through even the fabric of his long-sleeved sweater. These few years of being a professional athlete had been kind to him. “I’ll be fine! You’re the one who’s all skin and bones.”

“I resent that, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi protested, brows creased in a little frown, which Bokuto found cute. “I _do_ have muscle, you’re the one who’s set the standards impossibly high for the rest of us.”

“Oh? Was that a compliment? I’m flattered,” Bokuto grinned cheekily, throwing in a wink for good measure. “Anyway, don’t worry--your body is perfect the way it is, just bad against the cold I guess.”

If his phone hadn’t rung at that exact moment, perhaps he would have noticed the way Akaashi turned an alarming shade of red and buried his face in the fur-lined collar of his borrowed jacket. 

🌼

“That jacket’s a little big for you,” Yukie noticed, poking at the extra length of fabric hanging from Akaashi’s side. “Go one size smaller, next time.”

“Thank you for your concern, Shirofuku-san, but this isn’t mine,” Akaashi looked away, suddenly unable to make eye-contact.

“Oh?” She looked around at their little group, gathered around the grill. The old Fukurodani team had decided to grab dinner at an outdoor pub and grill downtown after a grueling week of work, practice, and projects, all of them needing a brief reprieve from the stress of adulthood. She was happy to see them and had missed the shenanigans her beloved owls got up to when together. 

Yukie noticed Bokuto, their beloved and (adorably) obtuse ringleader, cheering on Konoha and Sarukui, who were playing a game of chubby bunny, but with barbecued meats instead of marshmallows. Washio was hovering nearby, a glass of water already in hand. 

“I see Bokuto forgot his outerwear today,” she hummed, giving her old vice-captain a conspiratory smile. “He’s so forgetful sometimes. It’s a good thing you’re here to set him straight.”

“Shirofuku-san…” Akaashi sighed. “Please stop insinuating whatever it is you were about to.”

Yukie laughed. 

“Don’t worry, Akaashi,” she placed a comforting hand on his elbow. “One day, I won’t have to.”

🌼

Komi and Akaashi were huddled together in the small, enclosed smoking area. 

Thankfully, they were the only ones there. The smell of smoke stuck to you easily when you did it in an enclosed space, and two people were bad enough already, let alone another stranger thrown into the mix. They were both ashamed to admit that smoking had become a habit for both of them, in highly stressful fields of work which only allowed for short and inconsistent breaks at a time. 

Komi himself loved his job, though the hours were extremely long, and he found himself turning to cigarettes to stay awake during tedious overnight shoots. 

Akaashi was the same, though in the business of publishing instead of film. He’d heard many rumours about the publishing industry being twice as bad as broadcasting, especially for artists and editors, who often worked like dogs till they fell sick from stress or the lack of food and rest. 

“Here,” he offers Akaashi one from his pack. “Try this. Double blast grape menthols.”

“Thank you, Komi-san,” the bespectacled man slips out a cancer stick and lights it, helping Komi with his in return. “By the way, I’ve seen you in the new commercial for Kokka Coffee. You were excellent.”

“Ah, did you?” Komi scratched his head sheepishly. He still wasn’t used to it when people recognized him from television, and it was even more embarrassing when someone he knew (usually Bokuto or Konoha), tagged him in fan-made videos of his acting on Twitter. 

Well okay, that was fine, but when they left comments like ‘OH MY GOD KOMI-SAN YOU’RE A GOD’ or ‘daddy komi destroy me’, it made him want to bury himself in a hole. 

“Please don’t worry, Komi-san. I was being honest. You’ve really come a long way from your first audition,” Akaashi assured, exhaling a plume of smoke. 

“Well then, thank you kindly for the compliment,” Komi grinned, giving Akaashi a playful nudge. “What about you then? How’s life been treating you as of late?”

At this, Akaashi’s brow creased. “Not very good. There’s a big deadline coming up and Noriko-sensei has taken to fleeing the country to escape my house calls.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“I wish. She’s rather adept at disguising herself and slipping away unnoticed when she really wants to. I fear she may one day become the criminal mastermind she was always destined to be,” Akaashi deadpanned. 

Komi laughed. “Man, you’ve really changed since high school.”

“Oh? How so?” 

“Well, you’re a lot more vocal. You don’t hold back telling us about the shit on your plate. You never did that in school, no matter how stressed you looked.”

“Ah, that’s probably because the only troubles I faced was getting Bokuto-san to play as efficiently as possible. You know how temperamental he used to be.”

“Don’t we all,” Komi snorted, wincing a little as some smoke accidentally went up his nose. “But seriously though, I’m glad to see you stepping out of your shell. Maybe graduating was the push you needed to stop treating us like _senpai_ and more like friends.” 

“Maybe,” Akaashi hummed thoughtfully as he considered this. “So many things have changed since our high school days. Though I’m glad we’ve all remained in contact, and on good terms.”

“Me too, Akaashi,” Komi smiled, putting his cigarette out in the ashtray provided to the patrons. “C’mon, they’ve probably started on the drinks. I want to see Anahori and Konoha try to drink each other under the table.”

They began the walk back towards their table, enjoying the buzzing atmosphere of the gastro-pub. It was a great recommendation from Konoha, who often came here after hours with his colleagues. The restaurant had a spacious outdoor seating area where big groups were offered long, rectangular wooden tables and benches, a few feet away from the roaring grill where they could barbeque their food themselves. 

The drinks selection was pretty good too--varying from Australian wine to fruity cocktails, and big discounts on large beer towers big groups could share.

Sliding back into their seats, Komi and Akaashi were hardly surprised to see Anahori choking on his beer while Washio thumped him heartily on the back. 

“So, who’s winning?” He asked Kaori, who shrugged. She was glaring at her phone screen, typing furiously. He exchanged a knowing look with Akaashi.

Boyfriend troubles. Definitely. 

“Beats me,” the woman responded, tucking a flyaway strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “Sorry guys, I need to make a phone call.”

She stepped away from the table, phone held to her ear and speaking angrily with someone on the other line. 

Yukie shook her head, nursing a glass of cranberry vodka between her manicured fingers. 

“Takeda again?” Komi asked, unsurprised when Yukie bobbed her head. Kaori’s boyfriend of six months had a rather unsavory reputation in their group. He had brought their friend to tears during another reunion earlier this year. Needless to say, they had been unimpressed with the way he had snapped at her to shut up when she tried telling a funny (but embarrassing) story of how they had met online. 

“I keep telling her to end it. He’s just an over-possessive, insecure jerk who automatically assumes she’s cheating whenever she’s out with friends,” Yukie sighed. “Boyfriends look like so much work.”

“Well, I guess it depends on who you’re stuck with. Some people just aren’t made to be in relationships.” Akaashi said, pouring a glass of beer for Komi, who received it with thanks. 

“Yeah,” Yukie took a sip of her drink. “It just sucks when you see people you care about not doing what’s best for them, you know?”

“Absolutely,” Akaashi agreed. “Everyone deserves a loving significant other who has their best interests in mind.” 

“Well, not everyone would hope to be as lucky as you,” Yukie mumbled into her glass. Akaashi sputtered a little, eyes darting towards Komi for help. 

“Hey hey hey, what’re you guys talking about?”

Komi and Akaashi were forced apart when Bokuto squeezed between them on the bench, his broad shoulders nearly hitting him in the face (the bastard had grown even taller and broader since their high school days). Quickly scooting away, Komi was quick to notice that Akaashi had barely moved, remaining smushed up against Bokuto’s side. 

It was then that he noticed Bokuto’s lack of jacket (despite it being one of the coldest autumn nights they’ve had this year), and the familiar owl patch sewed haphazardly onto the sleeve of Akaashi’s jacket, layered over his usual denim one. 

Komi smirked. 

“Oh, nothing,” he caught Yukie’s eye, and they both turned their gazes not-so-subtly in Akaashi’s direction. “Akaashi was just talking about the finer points of being in a relationship.” 

“Really?” Bokuto reached over for his glass, dragging it along the wooden table towards him. “You’re thinking of dating someone, Akaashi?”

Their ex-captain’s face was carefully blank as his golden eyes bore into that of Akaashi’s gunmetal grey ones. Being a spectator to the way Bokuto and Akaashi liked to dance around their not-so-subtle feelings for each other was amusing, but uncomfortable when you were less than a foot’s distance away from it happening. 

“Oh, no, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi was quick to say. “It was just a casual discussion, that’s all.”

“So you’re _not_ looking to date someone?” Bokuto tried to confirm again. 

This was getting painful to watch. There were plenty of hints being thrown from both Bokuto and Akaashi at each other, but they both also had the uncanny ability to repel the undertones of their actions and what it might have meant. 

“Bokuto-san, it was just casual banter. Please don’t make a big deal out of this,” Akaashi was fidgeting with his thumbs again. Yukie snorted into her straw, making bubbles in her cup. 

“Oh! Oh. Okay,” Bokuto still stubbornly persisted, leaning unconsciously towards Akaashi. “But have you ever, like, _thought_ about it? Dating someone, I mean.”

“... Have _you_ , Bokuto-san?” Akaashi leaned a bit closer to Bokuto, his arm pressed up against the taller. They were still locked in each other’s gaze, uncomfortably close. 

‘Sexual tension’, Yukie mouthed at him. Komi definitely agreed. It was easy for him to recognize real chemistry between people, having seen plenty of actors (including himself) try to imitate it on set. 

Oh _god_ , why didn’t they just kiss already? 

“Just kiss already!” Someone yelled, cutting through the tension like a hot knife through butter. 

Everyone’s heads turned to look at Konoha, who was currently red-faced and with an arm slung around Washio’s shoulders, the only thing keeping him upright.

“What?” Konoha asked, at their shocked faces. “Everyone was thinking it!” 

They were all glaring at him now, except Bokuto and Akaashi. Bokuto just looked confused while Akaashi somewhat resembled his sister’s cat, whenever it had accidentally swallowed a fishbone.

“Alright, that’s enough alcohol for the both of you,” Sarukui intervened, nudging Konoha and Anahori (both equally tipsy at this point) towards the toilets. “C’mon, let’s freshen you both up.”

While Sarukui and Washio lugged their drunker counterparts away, Yukie stood up, mumbling something about going to find Kaori. Komi quickly took the hint and tugged on Onaga’s arm, asking the younger to accompany him to the bar, giving Akaashi an apologetic glance over his shoulder as they quickly made their escape. 

🌼

“So… that was weird, huh?” Bokuto pondered aloud. 

Akaashi bit his lip. He could _murder_ Konoha right now, Anahori too. This was easily, one of the most mortifying moments of his young life. 

“Hey, Akaashi? You don’t look so good. Want to call it quits for the night?”

“Yes, please,” he stands, gathering his belongings and leaving his portion of the bill on the table for someone (preferably Washio, who was the most responsible with money) to handle the payment. Bokuto follows in his stead, quickly downing a glass of water and jogging up to Akaashi. 

Both of them left the establishment after making a quick, vague excuse to Yukie on the way out, turning to wave goodbye to the two girls standing together by the bar ("You owe us all drinks at the next reunion!"). 

“I’ll walk you home,” Bokuto says. “You live near here, don’t you?”

Despite wanting, Akaashi finds himself shaking his head. 

“You don’t have to trouble yourself, Bokuto-san. I’m perfectly capable of making it home--I hardly had the chance to drink anything.”

“Well, I want to, alright?” The MSBY player steered them away from a group of drunken stragglers on the sidewalk, keeping himself between the men and Akaashi. “Besides, I haven’t seen you in three weeks! Wish I’d taken the chance to talk to you more tonight.”

Akaashi lowered his head, feeling a familiar heat creeping to his cheeks. This always happened when Bokuto was around. He’d been in denial about this for a long time, but somehow, he knew that an inkling (or ocean) of romantic attraction had already formed for his ace. 

It didn’t help that Akaashi was hopelessly gay either. Bokuto was incredibly handsome--not to mention he had the most amazing body he’d ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on. It was evident to everyone who walked by that Bokuto took good care of his body. You could climb him like a tree. 

Oh, how wonderful it would be to experience being wrapped up in those muscular arms, laying his head on Bokuto’s chest, sharing popcorn while they binge-watched Stranger Things together. 

“Oi, Akaashi?” A hand waved in his face, startling Akaashi out of his sinful thoughts. “You zoned out for a mo’, there. You sure you’re alright?”

“Yes, Bokuto-san. I’m sorry. I was just… thinking.”

“About what?”

Akaashi turned away, choosing to glance at the lit signs advertising more pubs, cheap karaoke places and the FamilyMart he often bought cigarettes from. He spots a couple making their way down the street, walking in the opposite direction as them, laughing and bundled together under the same scarf. 

He feels a pang of envy in his chest, an ache which had continued to grow like a weed. Momentarily considers telling Bokuto how he had been feeling lately. Maybe, it would be all right. They could talk about it like adults, and Akaashi would finally stop this ridiculous tip-toeing, pining behaviour whenever the group met up. 

Or maybe, it would be a disaster, and Bokuto would be so disgusted he would never speak to Akaashi again. 

Times had changed, he understood this. And Bokuto, along with the rest of Fukurodani, knew of his sexual orientation. He had come out to them after his graduation, and they had been nothing but supportive since. 

But the feeling of doubt was always there. You would never know how the other party would react. It was different, telling someone you were gay and telling someone you _liked_ them. He had been browsing the LGBTQ forums and read many tragic stories from other participants who had shared their negative experiences confessing to people close to them.

If there was one thing Akaashi knew about himself, it was that he didn’t like to gamble. Why take the risk, when he was already content? Things were fine the way they were now.

He shakes his head (and squishes down the stubborn part of him that wants to scream the truth). 

“Nothing at all, Bokuto-san.”

🌼

As gullible, obtuse and sometimes naive as he was, Bokuto was an expert when it came to reading Akaashi. He knew he had trouble sometimes with trivia and plenty of difficulty remembering important notes and formulas in high school, but he had a good head on his shoulders and hey, if Akaashi had managed to create an entire freaking list of his weaknesses, who’s to say Bokuto wouldn’t be able to with Akaashi in turn?

Though, Bokuto guessed he wouldn’t call them ‘weaknesses’, exactly. More like little habits and micro-expressions he zoned in on when he caught onto Akaashi’s discomfort.

Despite being younger, Akaashi had matured far quicker than any of them. Also, he was crazy smart (though sometimes Bokuto still felt he overthought things too much). He had been the one to help Bokuto figure out how to do his taxes, pay a mortgage (when he was ready to purchase, which was probably a year down the road). 

Normally, it would have been the parents who taught these things, but Bokuto knew his Mom and Dad were busy with his three sisters (the eldest currently stuck in a rebellious punk-rocker phase, and the youngest, Kohana, having dumped her third boyfriend of the month) and so had, out of habit, Bokuto had turned to his ex-setter for help. 

Akaashi has been Bokuto’s rock, throughout their high school lives and until now. And it filled Bokuto with a feeling he couldn’t quite explain--all he knew, was that Akaashi was a constant. He was always there when Bokuto needed him, be it for a laugh or a silent cry on the shoulder. 

The younger had done so much for him, and Bokuto found himself wanting to repay Akaashi’s kindness by being there for his friend in turn. Also, there had been an odd tension in Akaashi’s shoulders the past few times they had met up, something Bokuto felt was unrelated to his work and deadlines. He hated seeing Akaashi upset but knew when not to push the issue (he’d made that mistake with his youngest sister and now she refused to answer his texts). 

“It’s okay if you don’t wanna talk about it,” Bokuto says as they approach Akaashi’s block. He places a hand on Akaashi’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “But my DMs are always open--you know that, right? Slide in anytime.”

Akaashi threw him a disgusted look at his failed attempt at humour. “DMs? Did you learn that sleazy one-liner from Kuroo-san? If so, please, _stop_.”

“Damn, I knew you’d notice!” He laughed. Akaashi and Kuroo were still (amicably) bickering after all these years. It was cute, but it got troublesome when Akaashi would get angry at him for stupid stuff Kuroo made him do, like using that one, shady dating app which had ended up with a date of disastrous proportions (he had been hiding in an alleyway, completely naked, by the time Akaashi had arrived to rescue him).

As they reached Akaashi’s apartment lobby (the central heating was on, thank god), Bokuto enveloped his setter in a tight hug, giving the shorter a little squeeze. Breathing in, he caught the scent of grapes, tobacco, and a little cologne, over the familiar smell of Akaashi’s favourite washing detergent and fabric softener. It was very comforting, and Bokuto had to remind himself to let go. 

“Well, I guess I’ll see you soon,” he gives Akaashi the best smile he can muster, which honestly, felt more like a painful grimace. It was hard saying goodbye to Akaashi, even after all these years. They had always been joined at the hip throughout their teen years. He remembers his graduation being a very tearful event with plenty of sobbing. 

“Yes. Goodnight, Bokuto-san.” 

“Goodnight, Akaashi!” He waves goodbye as he steps out of the apartment building, the glass doors sliding shut behind him.

Shivering in the cold air, it takes him a few minutes and turning down the adjoining street before he realizes he's forgotten to take back his jacket, which he’d loaned Akaashi earlier this evening. 

He turns and jogs back, his breaths escaping his lips in little puffs of vapour. It must have dropped a few degrees compared to earlier. Fuck, he really needed that coat. He’d become a popsicle before reaching the MSBY dorm. 

Catching sight of Akaashi still standing in the lobby, Bokuto jerks to a stop. 

Why hadn’t Akaashi gone up to his apartment?

He sneaks a little closer, towards the shrubbery planted around the building, and focuses on Akaashi’s face, clenching Bokuto’s jacket tightly in his arms. 

‘ _He’s crying_ ,’ Bokuto thinks and immediately leaps over the bushes, scrambling towards the steps and nearly taking down the sliding doors as he forces his way into the lobby. 

“Akaashi! Akaashi, are you okay?” He asks, and without thinking, sweeps Akaashi up into his arms. This caused the ex-setter to emit a surprised squeak, clinging onto Bokuto’s shoulders for dear life as he’s lifted clean off the ground. 

Bokuto’s jacket remained between them, bundled up and sticking out through Akaashi’s long arms. He sees little wet spots on the sleeve where Akaashi’s tears had met the fabric. 

“Were you… crying into my jacket?” Bokuto asks softly. 

Immediately, Akaashi goes tense in his arms. He hears a little sniff and feels Akaashi shaking his head, soft, black curls tickling his cheek. Sees Akaashi hands raising to meet each other, behind his neck, no doubt already tugging and scratching at his cuticles.

A telltale sign he was lying. 

Bokuto sighed. 

“Would it be okay if I brought you upstairs?”

“No, that’s fine--”

“Nah, you know what, I’m not asking,” with another heave, Bokuto rearranges Akaashi into a bridal carry, ignoring his protests and hitting the elevator button with his knee. “I can’t leave without knowing you’re okay. Sorry.” He tacked on, holding his breath. 

To his relief, Akaashi finally stops struggling. He feels the younger lay his chin on his shoulder and pats Akaashi’s back soothingly.

🌼

Akaashi had bundled himself up in a blanket Bokuto had graciously fetched from his bedroom. His glasses were placed carefully on the small coffee table, a box of tissues already standing by. They were huddled together on the couch of his small living room, Akaashi’s owl-themed wall clock making ominous ticking noises amidst the silence. 

“So, you gonna tell me what’s wrong?”

Bokuto had placed an arm around his shoulders, pulling him in closer. Akaashi could smell the barbecued meats mixed with the vanilla aftershave the spiker loved. Anybody else might have been slightly repulsed by the weird combination, but to Akaashi, it was home. 

It was so effortlessly _Bokuto_ , he could cry from the familiarity of it. There were many things Bokuto-related which could set him off like a fountain, as proven by watching Bokuto walk away from him in the lobby earlier. He was deeply ashamed at how he had allowed his feelings to bubble to the surface this way, to inconvenience Bokuto in such a fashion. 

“You have practice tomorrow morning, Bokuto-san. You should be asleep by now. Please don’t--”

“If you tell me not to worry about you again, I’ll get mad.” 

Akaashi lowered his head, burying his face in the sheets. There was no arguing with that tone. Bokuto was in captain-mode, and despite the goofball he commonly portrayed himself to be, the man could take charge when it was called for. 

But why _now_ , of all times? When all Akaashi wanted was to curl up into a ball and cry himself to sleep. 

“You’ve been out of it ever since Konoha made that comment about kissing. Did he say something weird to you? I know you don’t like talking about these things in public...”

“No, no. Konoha-san was just… making a joke.”

“There! You hesitated. I _knew_ that stupid monkey did something. Did he say something about you being gay? Because if he did I’m gonna _kill_ him--”

“Bokuto-san, _please!_ This has nothing to do with him,” Akaashi grabbed onto Bokuto’s sleeve desperately before he could reach his phone, surely to give Konoha a piece of his mind. “He was just being observant--”

Bokuto froze. 

“Observant?”

And the alarm bells went ringing in his head. _Now you’ve done it, Keiji_ , he screamed at himself. 

“Nothing. Please, forget I said anything.”

🌼

Bokuto feels a thought forming in his head. 

Akaashi’s constant protests and refusal to tell Bokuto what he was thinking, his skittish behaviour earlier that night and the way Akaashi had immediately turned a sickly shade of pale when Konoha had yelled at _them_ to kiss. 

“Is this… about me? Did I do something, Akaashi?”

“No! No, Bokuto-san, please, it’s really nothing,” he draws back from Akaashi, sucking in a deep lungful of air. 

“Are you uncomfortable around me, Akaashi? Did I offend you somehow? You know I say dumb shit when I’m excited, I really, really didn’t mean to hurt you!”

The floodgates had opened and Bokuto felt the doubt and insecurity enveloping him like a tidal wave. It was a familiar and unwelcome feeling, one that he rarely experienced nowadays in his life as an adult. 

Bokuto feels a pair of ice-cold hands come to rest on his cheeks, shocking him out of his downward spiral. He looks up into Akaashi’s gunmetal grey eyes, shining bright with unshed tears. 

“Koutarou,” Akaashi begins, voice so soft it was almost a whisper. The use of his first name sent tingles down Bokuto’s spine. He wished Akaashi used it more often. “Please. Don’t do that to yourself. You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just… something I’ve been dealing with for a while.”

“Yeah? Well, how am I supposed to know if you don’t tell me? I’ve been trying not to push, I wanted to give you space, but _fuck_ , Keiji, you’re so important to me and I just, don’t want to leave you in this state knowing that I could do more.” 

Bokuto realizes that _he’s_ crying now, Akaashi’s hands gently wiping away tears from his cheeks. He croaks in shock (at his own waterworks) and they exchange a startled look, the loud, ungraceful sound out of place in the tense silence. 

Akaashi laughs soundlessly, his lips turning up into a bright smile as he squeezes his eyes shut, nose crinkling from the exertion of trying to suppress it. 

Bokuto finds himself tugging away Akaashi’s hands when he tries to hide it.

“I like it when you laugh,” he confesses, feeling drawn towards Akaashi, much like earlier, at the pub. “You should do that more often. Laugh, I mean.”

Their noses are almost touching now. 

Bokuto swears he can feel a little breeze when Akaashi blinks. His eyelashes were crazy long. He remembers hearing Yukie complimenting Akaashi about it, back when they’d first met. Saying stuff like how Akaashi had such clear skin and a pretty nose and wondering if Akaashi had modelled before for one of those eye-candy magazines which featured boys. 

He had found himself agreeing, and now, had come to the same realization Akaashi had, all those months ago, the pieces falling into place and painting a beautiful picture of hope. 

Bokuto leans in, and they kiss. 

It’s the furthest thing from hurried, Bokuto taking his time to relish the sensation of Akaashi’s soft lips against his own. 

It felt… right. Like spiking a ball so perfectly it made a bang against the gym floor, thrilling and causing a burst of pure happiness to swell within him. 

🌼

Bokuto is _kissing_ him. 

Bokuto is kissing _him_. 

Akaashi wonders if this is a cruel, bittersweet dream (like so many he’d had before), but when he feels Bokuto’s arms closing around his waist and lifting him into his lap, and the subsequent pain of his ankle bumping into the coffee table in the process, he realizes that yes, this is a hundred per cent real and no, this wasn’t a dream--

Bokuto Koutarou was kissing _him_. 

🌼

He hears Akaashi whine (and feels the younger’s foot meet with the table), mumbling an apology but refusing to pull away, nibbling tentatively on Akaashi’s lip. 

Their tongues slide together, shyly, and Bokuto thinks that maybe it's a good idea to stop thinking, and just let his instincts take the reins. 

They make out for ages, keeping each other warm from the slight chill which leaked into the room from the window he knew Akaashi liked to keep open, to keep himself awake on long nights. Akaashi’s body is pressed firmly against his and he loves it, unwilling to let go, only doing so when he feels hands pushing gently against his chest, his companion needing air. 

Bokuto finds himself unable to move, struck motionless at the sight of Akaashi, red-faced and panting, lips red and swollen (he’d done that), eyes shining with affection. 

At him. 

“I think I like you, Akaashi,” Bokuto hears himself saying. “Not just as a friend, but like, I think… I think I’ve liked you for a long time.”

Akaashi makes a little sound at the back of his throat like he’s been punched in the gut. 

“Really?” The younger croaks, his eyes wide and disbelieving. 

“Yeah, really,” he grunts, leaning in to hide his burning face in the fabric of Akaashi’s sweater. Mm. He smelled so _good_. He didn’t even care about the smell of smoke, it suited him. It was perfectly Akaashi. “I don’t normally go around kissing my friends, you know.”

Akaashi laughs again (twice now!), hand sliding under Bokuto’s chin and raising his gaze to meet his own. 

“Me too.” He says. 

“Huh? Which part?” 

“I like you too, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi laughs. “I have, for a while. It took me a very long time to understand how my feelings for you had changed. In fact, most of the team had realized before I did. I think Shirofuku-san was the first to notice.”

“Of course she did,” Bokuto sighs. “She never misses a thing, that Yukie.”

“That’s true.”

They sit in silence, though far more relaxed than they’d been when Bokuto had first set foot in Akaashi’s apartment. He reaches for Akaashi’s hand, marvelling at how their hands were now equally big (thankful for his second growth-spurt and his father’s genes), entwining their fingers tenderly.

“So, what now?” He asks, hopeful. He realizes that they’d never quite confirmed their feelings about dating earlier that evening, during that awkward conversation. 

Akaashi squeezes Bokuto’s hand, turning to face him with a smile. 

“Bokuto-san…” He stares as Akaashi’s cheeks turn a lovely pink, decorating even the tip of his nose and ears. He leans in, to pepper a series of quick kisses on Akaashi’s face, unable to resist. 

“Bokuto-san! I’m trying to ask you out, will you--” He struggles a little, and Bokuto laughs, catching Akaashi’s wrists and lowering them to his lap. 

“Yes! Yes, I’ll go out with you. So can I please kiss you now?” 

Akaashi nods, trembling with joy and happy tears trailing down his flushed cheeks. 

Bokuto laughs and swoops in for seconds, embracing Akaashi Keiji, his everything. 

**Author's Note:**

> So the real hero of the story was that jacket after all...  
> Hope you enjoyed this!


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